


Kintsukuroi

by TheSeventhSister



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeventhSister/pseuds/TheSeventhSister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kintsukuroi<br/>(n.) (v.phr.) “to repair with gold”; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for being broken.<br/>Grantaire looked so peaceful when he was asleep; it was like the world was not a weight upon him. Enjolras couldn't help but love him.</p><p>Modern AU drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kintsukuroi

Kintsukuroi  
(n.) (v.phr.) “to repair with gold”; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for being broken.

Enjolras lay on his front, his head turned towards to the other man occupying his bed. The sunlight dappled through the curtains and permeated the room gently, making everything from dust to people seem vaguely god-like. His eyes followed the dust particles as they lazily meandered through the sunbeams and into the darkness that still clung to the edges of the room or landed on the crumpled white sheets that the two men lay on. 

Grantaire looked so peaceful when he was asleep; it was like the world was not a weight upon him while he drifted in his mind. Enjolras once again intertwined their fingers, they had somehow managed to unlock themselves during the precious few hours of sleep he had allowed himself. Slowly, as to not wake R, the idealist pulled the hands closer to him so he could inspect the art-worn, careless hands that had fought for him only the day before. The knuckles were grazed, scabs, faded scars and paint stains covered fingers and the palm.

Enjolras loved this Grantaire. He loved all parts of Grantaire but this part he loved in secret. The peace of sleep relaxed the wounds of the day before to the point where Enjolras was able to kiss each mark without waking the sleeping cynic. Some may say that Grantaire, Enjolras, their entire relationship was broken. Even if it was, it was beautiful to Enjolras and that was all that mattered really.

The revolutionary let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in, too occupied with the beauty of the moment that sprawled out before him. Grantaire fondly called him Apollo but here, in this morning pause, this broken, drunk, cynical man was Apollo.

Enjolras près d’Grantaire redevenait quelqu’un.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very very short first work. Thank you for reading it and I hoped you enjoyed.


End file.
